


Dark And Empty

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By Bron DuWynn.Sam's wedding to Rose hits Frodo hard.  Very hard.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Rose Cotton/Sam Gamgee
Kudos: 2
Collections: Least Expected





	Dark And Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Warnings: hurt/no comfort  
>  Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am indulging my imagination in contemplating the lives of said characters, and allowing you to read the tearfully angst-ridden things I imagine. Nothing more, nothing less. Please grab a handkerchief before you begin.  
>  Feedback: Of course.  
>  Story Notes: This is meant to be a sequel to my Frodo/Gandalf story, "Let This Not Be Farewell." Gandalf was supposed to show up in this one, but he'll just have to wait until the next one.

_If I have to smile another minute more, I shall go mad._

"Oh, Mr. Frodo!" Sam was quite deep in his cups as he swaggered over to where Frodo stood. "Mr. Frodo, you have made this the most HAP-piest day of my WHOLE life! I couldn't have asked a finer wedding." 

Frodo forced his cheerful countenance to broaden. "I am glad you are happy,  
Sam," he said, and hoped it sounded true. 

He needn't have worried. Sam nodded amiably and ambled off to have another 

round with the Cotton brothers. *Another pint or two and it shan't be much 

of a wedding night,* Frodo wryly observed. And suddenly the thought of Sam with...with... 

Frodo pressed his way through the merry crowd of revelers, slipped hastily away from the wedding party, down The Hill, into the night. He walked, then ran, westward, running swiftly, silently, across the meadow into a stand of trees, kept running until he was surrounded by trees, blessed trees,  
sheltering him from view. He ran, and as he ran, the mask of cheer was cracked by a solitary tear. That tear was followed by another, then another,  
until a veritable torrent coursed madly down his quavering face, and he began to gasp raggedly, and not from the running alone. 

_Sam!_

It was too much, too much to bear. His wounds, his memories, the damned gap in his right hand where the ring finger...the Ring... 

_I am broken. I am torn. I will never again be whole._

At first, there had been laughter. Laughter, and even joy: joy to find himself alive, in defiance of the doom of certain death he had long ago accepted must be his lot. "Yes! I am all right!" he had laughed to Sam. Laughing, embracing, whirling around and around Ithilien's glade in sweet dance of gratitude, simply to be alive, to have lost only a finger, to still  
have breath and a beating heart and Sam in his arms in exuberant embrace... 

_I am no more._

The ceremony, the honors, the reunions, the coronation, each had passed in its turn; and life had begun to settle into its ordinary ways, and his thoughts had turned toward settling back into home. And with the settling came space for the shadows of his quest to emerge. He kept them to himself,  
of course. Still Arwen had seen, and, it seemed, Elrond, and Gandalf, damn it all; was there nothing that escaped the wizard's keen eye? 

And there had been Rivendell... 

*You would do well--* 

He pushed aside the remembrance. He was still running, still weeping; and an odd, keening tone, somewhat of a wail, somewhat of a moan, had begun to push up from some aching, horrible nothingness within him. 

Nobody was near to hear him. He was in the thick of the woods, now, and there were no houses nor holes for acres upon acres, so here, here where none could reprove his show of self-indulgence, here he let his pain sing freely into the darkness. 

_As long as I have Sam, I will endure._

"SAAAM! SAAAAAAAMMMMM!" He stumbled, tripped, splayed with sudden force upon knees and hands. Sobs wrenched his body, felt sure to sunder him from 

side to side, gouge a deep, bleeding cleft that would never, never heal. 

Things had changed. Hadn't they? On the Quest, things had changed, he had changed, they had changed. He and Sam. Friends. True friends. What mattered station in the wastes of Mordor? Friends. And...? 

More. Frodo had thought. More than friends. There had been...had been... 

*Oh, Frodo, Frodo, my dear, I'm here, your Sam is here!* 

Precious little he remembered of those dreadful days, but those arms he remembered. Felt, even now, as if they were drawing round him, instead of... 

"Sam," whispered Frodo, his face hovering so close to the grass that he could see his tears rolling individually down each blade. "Oh, Sam, how could you...how could you? Didn't you..." Hiccuping, gasping, gulping for air. "I can't, I can't possibly, possibly make it without you, Sam. I can't. You were my strength, my hope. You were..." 

*Well, Mr. Frodo, I surely thank you for the kind invitation, but, well, me and Rosie, Rose Cotton, we're going to be married.* 

Hands and knees slid out from under him. He collapsed, face buried in the earth, crying Sam's name, over and over, to remember, to forget. 

_Now all is dark and empty._


End file.
